


For King and Country

by Zippit



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Community: fma_ladyfest, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-11
Updated: 2013-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-14 15:10:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/838314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zippit/pseuds/Zippit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite the ever present gaze of homunculi, Riza Hawkeye continues to endure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For King and Country

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  Written for [FMA_Ladyfest](http://fma-ladyfest.livejournal.com/) 2011 with the prompt: Riza Hawkeye: running subterfuge/getting together information for the Promised Day while under Bradley. How'd she pull that off?
> 
> Thanks to [](http://archiveofourown.org/users/catw00man/profile)[](http://archiveofourown.org/users/catw00man)**Catw00man** for the beta. All other errors are mine.

Riza taps the rolled up slip of paper against her thigh as she walks toward home. It’s troubling that no news of Edward has been discovered since the Baschool confrontation with Kimblee. No news is better than bad news but the Colonel won’t be pleased. They both have their methods of receiving information from far flung locations but this is unusual for Edward. A confrontation, a chase, any hint of trouble should’ve had his name all over it but nothing. His flamboyant style could produce nothing less. No trace of his unique brand of alchemy had been reported either.

She keeps a wary eye on the shadows unsure if her silent observer is with her. She’s seen no indication he ventures outside the confines of the Fuhrer’s compound but that indicates nothing. Their confrontation was a moment of exposure for them both and unlikely to be repeated by either side. The game is drawing to a close and all cards must be held close to the vest. That doesn’t mean Riza takes chances. The flow of streetlights overhead reassures her. It’s hard being afraid of the shadows when they’re everywhere.

Her apartment isn’t too much farther and she tucks the small sliver of paper into the cuff of her sleeve. Sometimes the regularity of a uniform has its benefits and sometimes that familiarity leads to the situation she’s in. She nods at a young mother from the floor below hers as she heads up the walkway to the building. The stress of being in close proximity to Bradley every day has threatened to eat her alive some days. The careful safeguards for every moment, every action, trying to ply the lines of future repercussions is exhausting. It’s no wonder Mustang’s exhausted as often as he is. That still doesn’t excuse him sleeping at his desk.

She manages to catch an empty elevator to her floor which is unusual for the end of the work day. She takes a left once she steps out and walks toward her door. Once inside her apartment, she drops her keys on the hall table and makes her way to the kitchen, bending down to pat Hayate on the head as she does so. “Have you been a good boy?”

She smiles at the wagging black tail and refills his water bowl while starting some tea for herself. She wonders if they’ve stooped so low as to search her apartment or are they so arrogant in their superiority that keeping her under surveillance is enough. It’d be unlikely with Hayate at home and she has her own indicators to reveal if someone’s been inside. The water’s about to boil when there’s a knock on the door and she lifts the kettle off the hot stove before going to answer it.

The young boy standing there with her weekly flower delivery makes her think of Selim and for an instant she’s reaching for the gun tucked into the hall table. “Ms. Hawkeye? Madame sent me here with your flowers. I just started a few weeks ago.”

“Ah, yes, I remember you, Johnny wasn’t it?” She slides her hand off the gun grip and into the dish of money she keeps there just for deliveries. At his nod she smiles and hands him the money in exchange for the bouquet. She breathes in the scent of white lilies and relaxes. The few memories of her mother had white lilies in them. “You’re doing a good job. I’ll see you next week.”

She closes the door behind him and glances down when there’s a nudge at her leg. It’s Hayate. “Were you right there the whole time, boy?” She smiles ruefully. “I should’ve known you would’ve made a sound if you didn’t recognize him.”

He’s been a bigger boon than she ever expected. Her constant companion until most recently and always alert for the slightest falsehood. She reaches down to scratch him behind the ears then carries the lilies further into her place. Where to put them? The flower signaling system had been invaluable to her over the years. It was her own private code entrusted and only entrusted to a select few. Flowers would be sent weekly with no discernible note and no fanfare while the color, amount, and type tell her exactly what she needs to know. The recent acquisition of the Armstrongs’ personal florist had stopped the drain on her personal finances and also meant one less loose end. The single red rose on her window from nearly two months ago is finally starting to wilt. When she’d first received it, it’d told her Edward had been involved in something and may have been injured. More information would be forthcoming. None ever did.

His disappearance has been pushed to the backburner over the last few weeks as initial contacts between various factions they wanted to recruit started pouring in. Charlie Blackburn had sent his poppy bouquet of acceptance she suspects as soon as he realized the meaning of the missive he’d received. She liked the man from the little she’d gotten to know him during Ishval, hellish as it had been a time. Various others followed with their acceptances while there were a few daisy bouquets too. Not completely unexpected but a disappointment still. There were a few indications from parties that needed more time to consider the course of action. It was treason by all accounts and needed to be treated with as much gravity by all parties. They weren’t undertaking a light task. Bradley has the might of the military and the people behind him.

She’s fairly certain Madame Christmas has felt out her own contacts for supporters and directed them to her. There is little she doesn’t understand about this game they’re playing. If it wouldn’t be suspicious she’d have liked to pool their resources but the situation is as it is. She finds one of the few mementos she has left of her mother, a vase decorated with swirls of blue and greens with a tapered elegant neck. She doesn’t use it often but this time she’ll make an exception. She fills it with water and frees the lilies from their wrapping paper then sets them in. They mean the situation’s the same as it was last week. No new messages from their supporters, possible supporters, or the other matters of concern. Things are progressing and the pieces are being moved as quickly as possible. They have the time to prepare and plan. It all needs to come together so they can overthrow Bradley with as little bloodshed as possible.

She moves to the dining table and sets the vase in the center, arranging a few of the flowers to even out their spread. Riza steps back and nods then looks around. There are flowers on nearly every available surface. Bouquets riot all over the place, taking the place of single flowers. Hopefully she’ll return to those single flower status updates. They’re less overpowering in the small confines of her apartment. But then she enjoys the promise of what the future might bring. The conclusion of their mission is nearing and she for one is looking forward to the fight in some ways.

“Hayate, come.” She pats her thigh as she moves toward the front door again. Her black undershirt and uniform pants make a decent outfit to visit the dog park. It’s why she prefers the black to the white undershirts. More use can be made of the clothes without necessitating a change. It’s also more conducive to concealment when necessary. The reassuring weight of her ankle holster means she doesn’t have to scare anybody off with a more visible shoulder or side holster. Visits to the dog park have become more frequent since Hayate’s forays with her to the office have become nonexistent.

It’s only a short walk and thirty minutes will be enough to work out his energy. If she’s taken to chatting with a revolving group of people as they bring their own dogs to the park it’s of no consequence. None at all. She’s friendly with them and they don’t remark on her conversations with each other. If sometimes Hayate brings back the wrong ball in his mouth at the end of their session, she returns it on her next visit. Perfectly innocent. 

She should leash him but Riza’s loathe to do so after his constant days cooped up. It’s only a few minutes away. She walks out the door with Hayate at her side, tail held high. Another week of plots and looking over her shoulder and though she’s not in the most ideal position someone has to do it. The Promised Day is coming and they _will_ be prepared.


End file.
